


no time for wishful thinking

by writingramblr



Category: Blade Runner (1982), Blade Runner (Movies), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Film Noir, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Replicants, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Seduction, What Measure is a Non-Human, [not between graves x credence], aka blade runner, bladerunner mashup, surprise casting of rutger hauer as Gellert Grindelwald b/c reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Graves has been a Blade Runner for more than a decade.In all that time, he's never been sent into the lion's den after info for a missing replicant before, not until today.He's met with the gentlest of opposition in the form of a replicant who doesn't seem aware of their identity.When they become involved in more than just business dealings, everything changes.He finds himself questioning what it means to be human.To exist.And of course, most important of all, to feel.





	1. flip the script like I can take a beating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluebeholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/gifts), [edvic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edvic/gifts).



> no movie knowledge or even cursory short story 'do androids dream of electric sheep' knowledge is required to [hopefully] enjoy this little ficlet. i just wanted to do something with the verse after a quick yelling at @bluebeholder,  
> this fic was created.
> 
> guess what song was unsubtle-y used as the soundtrack? >.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (graphic by @edvic) :****

 

 

* * *

 

Graves was used to dealing with ordinary people, or shady criminals who gave him the runaround, and even with serial liars, but not on the level he’d arrived at today. Sent by the department to ask for any leads about a murderous replicant last linked to the Grindelwald Corporation, he found the megalomaniac himself patently refused to meet with policemen, detectives, or even bladerunners.

“So what you’re telling me is, your boss is declining to assist law enforcement? That’s a very serious crime. Grounds for detaining.”

The young man, who was rather infuriatingly good looking in appearance, though gaunt in the face, with wrists so delicate they could easily be snapped in the wrong hands, simply smiled,

“Was that what I said?”

Graves blinked, and then sat down heavily in the chair opposite the secretary’s desk.

“No?”

“Correct. I _said,_ Mister Grindelwald prefers not to deal in person with anyone such as yourself. He finds your line of work… distasteful. That is where _I_ come in. I am to perform as mediator. Ask me anything. I will aid you best I can.” Graves pulled out his notebook and frowned at the blank paper, “I see. Very well. What’s your name? Besides _‘Grindelwald’s secretary.’”_

Another soft smile, and it didn’t quite meet the young man’s eyes. “Credence.”

Graves scribbled that down, “Credence, what?”

“Just Credence.”

Graves frowned,

“They didn’t see fit to give you a last name with your uh, job and programmed identity?”

Credence gave him a perplexed look, and then tilted his head, sending a few dark waves to spill over his shoulder, “Are you under the impression that _I_ am a replicant?”

Graves felt a chill run down his spine. Was he wrong? Or had replicant’s just gotten so good at playing human they didn’t like to even discuss their own origins?

“Do you mean to tell me you’re human?”

Credence’s smile widened, “Am I so beautiful as to not appeal real?”

Graves stifled a cough, and managed to growl,

“That’s not _at all_ what I meant. Just… tell me what you know about your boss's workforce. How often does it shift? Has he ever been involved in trafficking rings?”

“What an incredibly insulting question. Mister Grindelwald does no such kinds of business. He is only a part of the most philanthropic and legal ventures available to man. He is closely working with the Senator Shaw’s family himself. Determined to compensate them for their losses and work to improve safety regulations.”

The incident in question was what sparked the investigation into the missing replicant. A human was dead, all because of a rogue machine. It was something that unfortunately happened a little too often, bugs or glitches in hardware, late and longer running replicants sometimes went squirrely. But not on such a national scale, nor had anything like the death of a Senator on his way to run for President occurred. It was tragic and political, the worst sort of case.

Graves would rather drink himself to death than help the rich keep at it, and continue to poison the city with their rhetoric. “So that’s the bullshit PR story he’s feeding everyone. But what really happened?”

Credence’s smile froze, then fractured slightly, drooping on one side, as his dark eyes glittered with something like impatience that could become malice, “I’m afraid I don’t know. I’ve told you everything I can. Ask a different question. See what happens.”

Graves got to his feet in an instant, inhaling sharply and trying to make himself appear as large as he could, intimidating, bold, a figure not to be trifled with. If his knee length leather coat didn’t do the trick, his stance usually could.

He’d been bladerunning for over a decade, and before that he’d been the rookie cop to shatter all the records. He’d been working longer than the kid had been alive, much less operating, if he was indeed a replicant. “If I get even a whiff of a hint that you’re complicit in your boss’s actions, he’ll have to stop avoiding me, because I’ll arrest _you_.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more assistance to you. Please have a wonderful day.”

Graves sneered at him, annoyed at having failed to crack his flawless facade,

“What, on behalf of Mister Grindelwald?”

“No. Just being polite.”

Graves huffed in frustration and turned his back on the kid, already sick of the building, the atmosphere, clean as it might have been compared to downtown, he just wanted to get to the station and file his report, leave the rest of it for the bigwigs.

They could argue over Grindelwald’s uncooperative nature.

He didn’t give a rat’s ass.

 

* * *

 

 

Credence watched the runner leave, and then promptly left his desk and to take the elevator up to Grindelwald’s office. The man was lounging at his desk, smoking indulgently just a few feet away from his covered balcony, legs crossed and expression lax, while the lights from nearby neon displays flashed over him, giving his appearance an unnatural halo.

Thanks to his white hair, he couldn’t help looking a bit odd, and the different colored eyes didn’t help. He caught sight of Credence and smiled,

“Ah, did he finally fuck off?” _‘He’_ being the runner, Credence concluded.

He nodded, and then stepped in closer to the room, eyeing the man as he set his cigar down and exhaled a final plume of smoke.

“What is it, my boy?”

Credence didn’t really know where to start, the more he thought about asking, the worse of an idea it seemed. But truly, his memories were growing hazier by the day.

He could recall six months back easily, a year, with effort.

Anything beyond that was almost a complete blank.

Originally, Grindelwald had told him it was natural to suppress things out of his own personal sanity and safety, but now, surely when he was somewhere safe and secure he would be able to retrieve them? Thanks to what the runner had said, he was experiencing the same paranoia he had when he’d first met Grindelwald.

Was it normal?

Credence wasn’t so sure.

“I uh, the runner said something about me having traits of a replicant. Do you think I do?”

Grindelwald flicked his fingers at Credence, urging him over, and he went, moving to stand at the side of the man’s desk, within contact distance. He swiveled in his chair, and smiled gently, before bringing his hands together in front of his face, barely tapping his bottom lip with both index fingers.

“You know, I think his first mistake was looking too closely at you. Trying to find a supposed flaw. You’re perfect, and that’s that. Sometimes humans have no errors.”

Credence blurted it out,

“But I’m human. Aren’t I?”

Grindelwald didn’t appear surprised that he’d eventually reached that conclusion, he didn’t even try to convince Credence the runner had been just fucking with him. He simply held out a hand, and beckoned. Credence went. He had no one else to trust or even who cared about him.

Not when he knew there was something horribly wrong in his past that he couldn’t remember.

A hand petted soothingly down his spine, and he fought the urge to shiver, as Grindelwald leaned in close enough to kiss below his ear, but refrained at the last second.

His warm breath merely hit over Credence’s skin, and he was forced to choose, to accept it, or politely deny the man. He wasn’t certain what to do.

The order of the day was usually, if Grindelwald was in a good mood, keep him thusly. If not, try to make him feel better. “What do you think, my boy? Is he of any danger to us? Should I send someone to take care of him?”

Credence hummed a touch nervously to himself, as he felt the man’s hips shifting under him, something hot and hard nudging against his backside, even through several layers of fabric, Grindelwald wasn’t bothering to hide his objective.

“I’m not sure. If I could observe him I might be able to give you more information.”

Grindelwald dragged a hand up Credence’s knee to his thigh, fingers dipping in between his legs, palming up over his groin, tempting him, teasing light contact to urge him to buck up.

“Did you find something intriguing about him? Is that why you’re willing to offer yourself to pacify me, so then you might chase after another?”

Credence tried to swallow to moisten his throat, finding that his mouth had gone dry, as Grindelwald’s hand increased pressure slowly, before he was grinding the heel of his hand down right against his cock.

“No? No. I just… want to ensure he won’t bother us again.”

“Us, as in the company, or _us_? Hmm?”

Credence gasped out a yes, just as Grindelwald closed the distance between them, and applied his mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck. His lips were soft, wet and warm, and Credence was helpless to react to the contact, melting in the man’s lap, and allowing him to further manhandle him around to straddle his own muscular thighs, and properly face him.

He was pulled in for a searing kiss by a firm hand on the back of his neck, and Credence barely held back a whimper as Grindelwald unzipped his pants, and applied his fingers to his exposed length. Slow steady strokes got Credence up to full hardness and over, spilling shamefully quick onto the man’s vest, in effect ruining his current attire.

As aftershocks quaked through him, Grindelwald gently nudged him back, so that he was half lying on the desk and half hanging off. It was blessedly empty, so no pens or staplers were digging into his back. With a swift move, Grindelwald tugged off his pants and forced them down to his knees, standing up to then bend Credence’s legs up to his chest, positioning him to be almost doubled over, with his naked backside exposed.

“You’re welcome to go after him, and take plenty of notes, darling, but only after I’ve had my fill. Understand? He’ll know not to try anything if you smell like me. Isn’t that right?”

Credence nodded dimly, and then Grindelwald was yanking open a drawer, unsnapping something, and cold wetness trickled over his hole, dripping down his cleft.

“Good boy.”

He didn’t get any preparation, but he didn’t really need it either. Grindelwald was usually far too impatient, so he made sure every morning and night to practice, just in case the man decided to spring something on him. So it wasn’t painful, but the ache never really went away.

Grindelwald groaned over him as he sank in all the way to the hilt, and remained still for a long moment, seemingly savoring the way Credence felt around him.

The man wasn’t talking like he usually did, coarse language to ensure that Credence knew how much he adored having him, but it was better that way.

Credence could pretend he was somewhere else, doing something else entirely. His own little heavenly hiding place, deep in the recesses of his mind.

When Grindelwald eventually stopped moving again, and the feeling of fullness grew, Credence found himself blinking back tears, as he lied over and over again, that it was amazing, incredible, he was so grateful. Even as Grindelwald withdrew, he winced, and then fingers were there, fondling over his twitching and gaping hole, obscenely wet from the lubrication and semen. “You look so pretty like this, you know? I think you should keep it. Long as you can, darling.” then there was a hard press, and something else was being pushed into him, keeping any of Grindelwald’s come from spilling out, the object was slim and tapered to a point.

A plug.

“You want me to wear that when I go meet him?” Credence managed to breathe out, and he felt Grindelwald tap it gently with a finger, before bringing his legs down, and the limbs immediately began to tingle as blood rushed back to them. He didn’t try to walk.

He wasn’t foolish enough to attempt such a thing so quickly. But Grindelwald did help him redress, and seemingly didn’t care or mind that Credence’s own come was drying on his clothing. “Yes. Precisely. It’ll be a decent reminder.”

Credence couldn’t help bristling,

“I wasn’t planning to _fuck_ him.”

Grindelwald’s smile was sharp,

“I know that. But you will end up seducing him. How can he hope to resist? Look at you.”

The man’s hand gripped his jaw, not painfully, but just enough to serve as a warning. Credence’s eyes closed as thumbs wiped away his tears, and a final kiss was placed on his lips. “Go on then, you should be able to walk now.”

With a slight limp, yes. Credence exhaled slowly as he finally left Grindelwald’s office behind, and made a quick detour downstairs to retrieve the runners card.

 

* * *

 

 

Graves was halfway through his weekend bottle of whiskey when he heard a knocking on the door, and he stowed it as quickly and casually as he could manage.

“Who is it?”

He walked to the door, gun in hand, and remained out of the line of sight from the peephole. Smart folks could figure out how to use it or reverse it with a cheap set of digi-glasses.

“Graves? It’s me, Credence.”

He didn’t know why his heart made a traitorous thump, and then something in his chest caught, but it was probably the liquor. Graves lowered his gun and then opened the door slowly, finding exactly that, Credence behind it, looking more than a little shaken.

“Is something wrong?”

The young man jerked his head to the side and stepped past him so that he could close the door securely, before turning around to get caught midway through an ambush of an embrace. Graves froze, and almost dropped his gun.

“What the-?”

“I can’t really talk outside. I feel like he’s always watching me. Oh gods, Graves I’m so scared. Please tell me you can help me?”

Graves wanted to break something in frustration. He’d known it, damn it all to hell, he’d _known_ something was up with Grindelwald. Even his lackeys lived in fear. He lifted a hand up to try and pat Credence’s back, but he simply clung to Graves tighter, and he was forced to walk them both over to the couch so he could put his gun down, and gently but firmly pry himself free.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on? How has he threatened you?” Credence’s eyes dropped to the floor, and he sat down gingerly, with a wince that Graves didn’t miss. “Has he hurt you?”

Credence shook his head quickly, and then hugged his arms around himself,

“He threatened my family. Said he’d kill my little sisters if I told anyone what kind of a monster he was. So now I work for him to protect them.”

Graves frowned,

“But you’re talking to me?”

Credence’s eyes widened, and were shiny with tears, as his pink plush lips parted once more, and god, what the fuck was _wrong_ with Graves, why couldn’t he focus? The worst mistake he ever made was letting a fatale like Credence into his apartment. There was no going back now.

“You seem like you could protect me. You’re strong, deadly, brave.”

Graves blinked, yes those things were all true, but why would that make a difference against one of the most rich and powerful men in the city, maybe even the state? He sat down beside Credence and started at the sight of a reddish bruise on the side of his neck, not quite hidden behind the long dark waves of his hair. Before he could think better of it, he was lifting a hand to touch it, as Credence flinched away. “Did he do that?”

Credence’s cheeks went pink, and he nodded. Graves couldn’t help frowning,

“So he doesn’t hurt you, but he molests you? How long has he been doing that?”

Credence shrugged a shoulder, and Graves felt his blood beginning to grow hot.

“It’s a hazard of my looks. He says he likes beautiful things in his life. Men have always seen me as just an object to be used.”

Graves’ hands balled up into fists,

“Why that fucking-”

“Please, don’t be angry with him. Going after him alone will only get you killed. But I know things. Secrets that might help destroy him.”

Credence blinked at him, wide eyed and earnest, heartbreakingly sweet. Graves wanted to bundle him up in a blanket and never let go of him. He looked away, and saw his foot tapping with nervous energy, and he coughed,

“Could I get you something to drink, to ease your ah, anxiety?”

Credence nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

He got up off the couch and walked into his kitchen, a bit crowded, and looked over to find Credence had laid down, curled up on the couch, taking up as little space as possible, yet still managing to fill it.

“Are you tired?”

Alcohol sure wouldn’t help that, but Credence was shaking his head.

“Just uh, think better like this.”

He brought over the glass along with his own refilled, and together they sipped in silence, before Graves found himself breaking the quiet.

“How old are you?”

There was a chance, if the thing between Grindelwald and Credence had been going on long enough, of bringing certain charges against him.

“I just turned nineteen.”

Graves took a long sip of whiskey, relishing the burn,

“How long have you been working for him?”

Credence sighed, and fidgeted with his own glass, which he really shouldn’t have been drinking from. Then again, there was no technical prohibition or drinking age set, when accompanied by a proper adult. Namely, him. God he was old. Nearly two and a half times the kid’s age. Fuck. “Almost three years.”

Age of consent was fifteen, so god, Grindelwald had really been cutting it close.

The creep.

Graves exhaled slowly,

“Okay, so that’s not an option. Did you know him before he found you and threatened your... Sisters? How old are they?”

Credence shook his head,

“He met me at a school debate. He’d been with the Shaw’s. The youngest was in my grade. We had a debate club. My sisters are eight and thirteen. He’s never met them. I wouldn’t let him.”

Graves nodded,

“Okay, that’s good. I guess. Better than the alternative.”

Three kids with abuse in their past was far more trouble than just one. Not that Credence was exactly an open and shut case. Graves groaned, and pressed a hand to his temples, feeling the liquor start to make his head ache. Worse yet, he was distracted and off his game, with Credence right beside him, so sad and vulnerable, as if trying to appeal to the protective guardian in him, the last thing he needed was for another authority figure to take advantage of him. “I don’t have very much money. I’m not sure how I could possibly hire you to help.”

Graves opened his mouth to remind Credence that blade runners and indeed police worked for the public free of charge, it was detectives whom one had to worry about bills with, but he couldn’t, because the boy was sitting up, and surging into him, wrapping his arms about Graves’ shoulders and slotting those perfect lips against his mouth.

God help him, why did the kid taste sweet and innocent? Far as Graves knew he had been drinking the same damned whiskey. “Stop, stop, you don’t have to do this.”

He mumbled, doing his best to push the kid off, to halt things before they went past the point where he would want to stop. Frankly, he didn’t at all.

There was a roar in his ears, blood rushing south fairly quickly, and he put hands on Credence’s hips to urge him away, but his fingers curled into the soft skin, sliding under his shirt easily, splaying on his lower back, the next thing he knew, a moan was leaving someone, breaking the kiss. “Please, I’ve never been able to do this because I want to.”

That just made Graves feel worse, but his dick wasn’t getting any softer, not when Credence sat up fully, and climbed over to sit across his lap, settling down over his thighs. Credence reached down promptly to fondle more purposefully on Graves’ dick and another moan left him, along with a curse.

“I don’t _charge_ for my services. This isn’t necessary-”

Credence kissed him again, cutting off his protests.

“Then let me do it for _me_.”

Everything was achingly hot, too much and too fast, his head was spinning as his eyes closed to fight the dizziness, and Credence shifted over him, sliding backwards, but only so he could put his mouth on Graves. When had he gotten his pants undone, almost off? He didn’t know. All that he could focus on was how _great_ it felt, and how long it had been since anyone had done such a thing.

Credence’s lips were soft and smooth, wet with saliva and the flick of his tongue on the head of his dick was amazing, but all that paled in comparison to how easily the boy swallowed him down, down, never ending bliss.

That was that.

His hand lifted to gently cup the back of Credence’s head, and then his fingers curled into his hair automatically guiding him to stay put, to let him thrust up, rocking slowly, chasing that perfect pleasure, the imminent orgasm that would bring about clarity and reason.

It didn’t exactly, but Graves shouted and Credence stayed there, over him, on his knees, drinking every drop of come that his climax yielded, barely aware it was done, and that he could stop.

Credence suckled and licked over Graves until the sensitivity became enough to make him groan, and shiver away. Credence looked up at him with glassy eyes and pinked lips, and Graves thought to himself oh, _he was in so much trouble now._

 

* * *

 

 

It had been almost too easy.

The man had been putty in his hands, and Credence hadn’t even needed to feed him a lie, the story he’d told was all true, best he could remember it. He’d simply let Graves fill in the blanks, imagine the horrors, and now Credence had his own pet bladerunner.

The information Grindelwald gave him to pass along secretly was perfect, doctored just enough to seem plausible, and completely circumstantial if he were to ever present it all to someone with real power and authority.

The first time he came home from meeting with Graves, Grindelwald had immediately told him to remove his clothing and get in bed for proper inspection. Credence almost laughed aloud, but held back at the last second, and obeyed.

There were no marks, and the plug he’d been given had not moved, but for him walking and sitting and as normal. When Grindelwald removed it and pushed three fingers in without warning, he gasped and thrust back against him, before the man finally reached for his cock and brought him off with a low cry.

Credence had not allowed Graves to touch him in return beyond kissing, and in doing so, had left himself as yet another object to be caught upon the conclusion of the case.

But what Graves didn’t know was how that day would never arrive. Credence was happy with Grindelwald, content with their masterful art of deception, and he didn’t see that ever ending.


	2. conclusion

Credence woke up late one night gasping for air, and clutched both hands to his neck to try and figure out what had been choking him. There was nothing, and all he had in the room beside him was a handful of extra pillows, and one throw blanket for when it got exceptionally cold. He was alone in the bed. In the room. Grindelwald had left hours back, when he’d finished refucking Credence from his latest meeting with Graves. 

The runner still didn’t suspect a thing, nearly a month later, and Credence tried to laugh about it, to smile amusedly, but nothing came. Instead, a cold sliver of dread went down his spine, and he started to breathe again, as if nothing had been wrong. 

He rolled over to look at the clock and found it read 4:21 in bright green numbers. Credence sighed, then got on his back once more, eyeing the ceiling while his eyesight adjusted. It didn’t take long. Something Graves had said when they first met came trickling back to him, and he was hit by a horrible realization. 

A decade ago, law enforcement had stopped using humans for paltry law enforcement in so called dangerous areas of town, and instead replaced them with replicants. It made sense. They lived longer, were stronger and could easily be refreshed upon destruction. Unlike humans. Credence couldn’t help wondering how much longer it would be until that was universal, or if they were already experimenting with such an idea. 

Were there replicants out there among the police who didn’t know what they were? 

What about bladerunners? 

Could a replicant be trained to hunt other replicants? 

Why didn’t Credence remember his own last name? Graves was the same, in reverse. He’d only ever introduced himself with one name, and it could be a surname or a proper name. He didn’t know. In the space of a few moments, his entire world had come crashing down, another fit of paranoia. Where was Grindelwald when he needed him? He climbed out of bed, dragging the blanket with him, and went off in search of answers. 

Grindelwald’s office was three levels down, and locked to anyone but Credence. He was the only person the man trusted. His computer was secured further, though it took Credence mere seconds to figure it out. That was something he hadn’t told Graves. He might have been plucked out of high school by the rich maniac, but he was then given the best education money could buy in private, and taught to be clever as well as play up his pretty looks to exploit weakness in others. 

As he flicked through the files on Grindelwald’s desktop, he knew it wouldn’t be so simple. He’d have to look harder to find something about  _ himself _ . He programmed a complicated search program to start up, combing for certain sentence and word fragments, and it was done in about three minutes. 

“ _ No results for ‘Credence,’” _

“ _ 101 results for ‘replicant’” _

As he read through the various things that had been snagged, he started to feel rather ill. According to Grindelwald’s files, there was  _ no _ Credence. There never had been. There was a replicant classified as highly dangerous and erratic in programming that possessed the name  _ Barebones _ , who had originally been created for use and work in a club. Reading between the lines, it was easy to determine exactly what sort of  _ ‘club’ _ it had been. 

The urge to throw up became stronger, but Credence couldn’t stop reading now. Before Grindelwald Corporation had adopted the asset, he’d been apprehended for shutdown, or  _ kill _ order, after harming a human beyond coverup. 

A high ranking political official. 

Senator Shaw.

The hairs on the back of Credence’s neck rose up, and he saw a shadow falling over the light from the hallway. “Darling, what are you doing poking around my office… hmm?”

He backed away from the computer slowly, and tried to rationalize everything he’d just seen. It was almost impossible. Credence had been living a lie all along. 

The hazy memories of his past weren’t that way because of current and older trauma, they would never become clear, they couldn’t, because they didn’t  _ exist _ .

“You… bought me.”

Grindelwald hummed to himself, staring at his nails as if unwilling to look at him or not finding Credence worthy of his attention. 

“I did. I never lied to you. You start to question this every so often, but you never pay attention. I purchased you, yes. Like I acquire any other piece of property or real estate. Or a particularly engaging object of furniture. You’re lovely. You serve me well. I’m sorry if this upsets you. Perhaps that’s why you usually choose to forget.”

As the man approached, Credence found himself wilting, anger leaving him to be replaced with icy cold dread, “Am I to be disposed of at will, do I have no true voice?”

“Like any replicant, you are for humans, by humans. There is no other reason for your existence, my boy.” 

“But I thought you- the bladerunner, he’s looking for  _ me _ . I’m Barebones.”

Grindelwald was close enough to touch him now, making slow easy contact, pulling him into his chest, cradling him like a child. Shushing him with a press of lips to his temple. He held still, unable to help comparing the touches to Graves. 

To the way he’d comfort Credence even with only a lie to fuel his efforts. Of course, he didn’t  _ know _ it was a lie. “He’s looking for a murderous and unhinged replicant. Who would ever mistake  _ you _ for such a thing?”

His arms felt like prison bars and Credence couldn’t even dream of escape. He couldn’t dream, period. He was a machine. Worst of all, he’d foolishly thought  _ Graves _ was the replicant.

The joke, as they said, was on him.

Grindelwald guided him back to bed, and despite the lateness, or earliness of the morning hour, proceeded to peel him out of the blanket and roll him onto his stomach, parting his legs for a slow and rough fucking. 

Slow, as his agonizing thrusts drove Credence harder and harder into the sheets, not quite enough to stimulate him in return, and rough, as he didn’t even bother preparing him, or add any additional lubrication. 

He’d showered before falling asleep and cleaned himself completely, not expecting further assault. A lackluster revelation drifted to the surface of his mind; that it didn’t hurt, and Credence wondered if he’d simply lost the ability, with the new knowledge of his true self. 

It didn’t matter. Grindelwald knew nothing else beyond the fact he was still the perfect and pliant secretary and live in toy. That was his only purpose. 

 

The very next time he saw Graves, the illusion all fell apart, and he lasted through one glass of whiskey before he was crying. Graves took it to mean something terrible had happened, or Grindelwald had truly hurt him, but Credence could only shake his head with every new question, and let the man envelop him in a firm embrace.

“Tell me, what is it? How can I help you?” 

It was a bizarre reversal of their roles, and Credence only wanted to cry harder. 

“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing. No one can change what I am.” 

Graves kissed his cheek, gently swiping his thumb at the tear tracks on his skin, and then holding him close again, like he was somehow valuable, precious and cared for. It could never be. He would long outlive Graves if he even managed to continue serving Grindelwald to the best of his ability. 

When Graves stood up he followed, and they were walking over to the cramped bedroom, as the man let go of him, he started to undress himself. Even now, Credence could see hints of silver in the hair on his chest and deeper streaks at his temples. Graves was older, and would always be. Grindelwald was perhaps a decade younger than him, and kept his white hair for fashion purposes, pure vanity. 

On Graves, the look was attractive without being pretentious. 

He looked his age. 

He was handsome. 

Credence’s eyes widened when Graves didn’t stop with his shirt, and was naked in a handful of moments before him. He walked over to where Credence was sprawled, frozen, and then leaned over him to kiss his forehead. 

“Will you stay with me? Sleep with me. Nothing has to happen. I just… I want you to feel safe, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re here. Not anywhere he could hurt you.” 

Credence had been ordered to destroy Graves, to finish him with all that he had, and Grindelwald had smiled when he’d questioned exactly how much to give him. 

_ ‘Whatever it takes _ .’ 

Credence had taken that to mean the rules went out the window when it came to sex, to physical markings and contact. Graves could fuck him raw and leave him bloody and as long as Grindelwald got what he wanted, Credence was collateral damage. 

Of course, Credence knew that Graves  _ would never _ do such a thing, but no one could really be trusted. 

“You want me to remain in your bed, while you are naked, and no sexual events will occur?”

Graves let out a breathless laugh, 

“Well, if anything were to happen, I wouldn’t object. That’s just it. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything.” 

Credence tugged off his shirt and tossed it aside, before shoving down his pants, and slipping out of his shoes. When he joined Graves back on the bed, they were both naked, and the man’s gaze was leaving his face in the span of a heartbeat. 

“Oh.”

Credence nosed into his neck as he promptly straddled the man’s waist, 

“Good or bad?”

Graves’ palms were hot on his hips, and soft over his skin, despite the rough callouses, 

“Very, very good. You’re stunning.” 

Credence managed a smile, but it hurt with how fake it felt.

“Thank you.”

When he rolled his hips down, grinding their equally hard cocks together, a moan vibrated up from Graves’ chest, and Credence dipped down to kiss his shoulder, mouthing over his chest, and then putting his lips squarely over a budded nipple, sucking hard and biting gently, before licking it. Graves’ hands rose up to splay over Credence’s back, and urge him closer, back in for another slow press of their groins. 

“You know, you shouldn’t tease an old man. It’s cruel.” 

Credence smiled into his skin, and then lifted his head back up to kiss Graves, then reached a hand down to grasp loosely around both of them, applying a firm stroke to his own cock before favoring the man. 

He was a bit thicker, and his cock was admirably long, but compared to Credence, who’d been built for pleasure, he was almost short. 

Thin and curved to the right, Credence’s cock fit easily far down throats or in holes if he was allowed. When Graves murmured how much he wanted to taste Credence, he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d hit the jackpot, and there would be no need for his nerve endings to be dulled, or turned off. 

He nodded easily, and Graves gently urged him onto his back, switching places, so that he now was atop Credence, and putting his mouth everywhere he could. 

Exploring the dip of his stomach, back up the ladder of his ribs, thumbing over a peaked nipple and resulting in a gasp and twitch of his cock from Credence. Graves kissed to his navel and swirled his tongue in the center of it, making Credence bite back an involuntary giggle, before Graves was shifting down, and licking up his aching length. 

If he dulled things, there would be no way to know how close he was getting, if he’d come at all. That had been the worst of it. Letting Grindelwald take him as often and as hard as he wanted, there was never any pleasure for him. 

Not that it was  _ about _ him. 

It wasn’t. 

All of it was leading to Graves’ inevitable end. 

As the man wrapped his lips around Credence’s cock and laved his tongue against the slit, where artificial wetness dribbled out, a perfect match and synthetique version of semen that would never make any human fear disease or reproduction, Graves moaned against him, and Credence was forced to buck his hips up, chasing more. 

Graves let go of him and kissed back down the length, while applying a firm hand to his waist, keeping him still, and his other palm curved under his ass, guiding his legs apart. 

He swallowed the fearful ‘ _ no _ ’ and waited to see what Graves was planning. No fingers, no rough press, Graves merely kissed down from Credence’s cock, over the swell of his sack, to his hole, and then cautiously put his mouth there. 

“What are you-?” Credence didn’t know why he was asking. There was a word for it. There were instructions to properly  _ do it _ for someone, but Grindelwald never did. He said that he had much more productive uses for Credence’s mouth. 

Graves didn’t seem aware that he was being wasteful, in fact, he hummed against Credence, and made sparks shoot down his spine, directly to his cock. “Oh!”

Both of Graves’ hands were now braced on his thighs, holding them apart so that Credence wouldn’t accidentally crush him, or make it hard to breathe, and the man’s tongue was barely moving inside Credence, just about as deep as a finger up to one knuckle, while obscene wet noises emanated from between his legs, and his cock steadily dripped onto his stomach. 

It felt wrong to remain so quiet or neglect the man, but Credence’s hands migrated towards his own cock before he could think to reach for Graves’ head or try and take one of his hands. 

“Oh, god, oh, fuck.” 

Credence’s grip tightened on his cock, as he stroked lazily, bare minimum of fingertips contacting the shaft. He was dimly aware of Graves letting go of one of his legs to reach over and press a finger into his hole, while his mouth rose up to lick and kiss the sensitive skin right beside his hole. 

Credence’s vision whited out, and his entire body quivered from the force of his orgasm, cock pulsing wetly onto his skin, slicking his hands. He collapsed onto the bed and his heartbeat was racing, while he could feel Graves crawling back up the length of his body, bypassing the mess on his stomach to kiss his neck, teeth nipping slightly, then soothing the sting with his tongue. 

“Was that okay?” 

His voice sounded rough, as if he’d been smoking one of Grindelwald’s cigars. Credence could only nod, words utterly failing him, despite his programming. Graves dragged a hand through the streaks of come, and then put one finger in his mouth. 

“I don’t suppose you’d be okay with me uh, having you?”

Credence bit back a whine. Now that he’d been denied it for so long, he was prepared to beg. 

“Please.”

Graves looked as if he wanted to smile, and instead he just moaned, but that might have been from Credence reaching down to stroke over his cock. He was still quite hard, perhaps desperately in need of some form of attention. 

“I could put you in my mouth.” 

Graves swallowed, and then pressed his lips to Credence’s jaw, avoiding his mouth. 

“Would you prefer I didn’t fuck you?” 

Credence wanted it, very much. But he couldn’t do that. Then it would be over. His job would be complete, and death was all that remained. Even now, his hands twitched. He didn’t know what to do. “I think… I just want you to hold me.”

Graves exhaled a slow breath, and then nodded, falling over onto his back, gently bringing Credence to his side, and he snuggled into him, the strong arm curled around him a grounding weight. He kept his hand on Graves’ cock, refusing to neglect the man’s pleasure simply because he was having second thoughts about obeying his owner’s command. 

Credence closed his eyes and simply  _ felt _ every change in the man’s breathing, his rapid heartbeat, and the eventual cresting, all by touch. His hand stilled over Graves’ still spending cock, and he relished the full body shudder that quaked through him. 

“You’re a wonder, you know that?” 

Credence hummed, and nuzzled his cheek over the man’s chest, “Only for you.” That hadn’t come out right. He had meant to say ‘Only  _ to  _ you.’ The words came out sounding far more poetic and romantic than he’d intended.

As Graves tugged a blanket over them, he noticed it was far more ragged than any of Credence’s bedding back in Grindelwald’s tower, and was granted a kiss on his temple. 

“Thank you.”

  
  


* * *

 

Graves awoke with the slight and warm reminder that was Credence in his bed as well as in his arms, and then started, as he found the young man staring at him, unblinking and intense. He was lying very still with his head propped up on both hands folded beneath his cheek.

“Uh, good morning to you too.”

“You’re one of them.” 

Cryptic words to be sure, but Graves liked to think of himself as less than easily baffled. He still was. “What? I’m one of who?” 

Credence reached out, and then seemingly resumed normal motion, as if by the a flipping of a switch. His hand was gentle on Graves’ cheek, and his thumb dragged over his bottom lip, catching slightly, before he opened his mouth and kissed the tip of it on purpose. 

Credence’s answering flush was adorable.

“You’re just like me. Older. More advanced.” 

Graves bit back a laugh, but it sounded hollow, 

“Yes, I’m older than you. By a lot. Please don’t remind me unless you’re following that up with your mouth on my dick.” 

Credence smiled finally, 

“I didn’t mean for it to be an insult. But I’ll do that if you like. If you promise to run away with me.”

Graves groaned low and long when one of Credence’s hand actually slipped down his bare chest and stomach to make contact with his dick, hard and aching from the usual reasons. Like going to bed not  _ quite _ satisfied and having the most pleasant thoughts and dreams about the other person in his bed. “Where are we running, sweetheart?” 

Credence rolled over him, straddling him easily, while grinding his own dick against Graves’ stomach, “Anywhere. Far from here. Just you and me. The world at our fingertips.” 

Graves was far too on edge to concentrate on real words and thoughts, so he just nodded, and begged for a kiss silently, while arching his back and thrusting up. Credence granted his wish, putting his beautiful mouth on Graves and jerking him harder, faster, throwing him over the edge before he was truly ready, he’d been praying to be  _ inside _ the boy when he came. 

But oh well, the bliss was good that way too, and Credence ducked down, lapping at his spend while his dick was still twitching in his hand. 

“Fuck. Where do you want to take me? Heaven? I think we’re already there.” 

Bad jokes were his forte even when he wasn’t delirious with post orgasmic tingles, and Credence laughed over him, shaking his head, lowering his hand to caress his now relaxed balls and thumb down his taint, stopping just shy of his ass. 

“No. I want to see Tokyo. I want to visit the Great Wall. Or maybe Stonehenge. The Eiffel tower. Promise me.” 

Graves’ breath caught in his lungs, and he saw how scared and sad Credence looked, even now, kneeling over him and between his legs. What he wasn’t asking for was obvious. Given by the state they were both in, two for one climaxes, Credence seemed to be of one mind, and yet shy. 

“Sweetheart. If you want to fuck me you just gotta say when. I’ll take you wherever you want. Once we’ve destroyed Grindelwald Co.” 

Credence shook his head, and sent wild dark waves tumbling all around his pale shoulders, “You can’t. You never will. I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Deep down. You must.”

Graves was frowning even as Credence reached over, fumbling through his bedside drawer for the tube of slick, and the first touch was enough to distract him from deeper questions. Deeper was the name of the game, after all. 

Credence eased in a fingertip, and then two knuckles worth, managing to make Graves flashback over a decade, the last time he’d done any such thing, he had been in the academy, drooling after a ginger with green eyes and a devastating smile. 

He had moved on to London, and Graves had remained in hell, or rather, Manhattan.

“I want to have you. No more hiding. Only truth.” 

Graves nodded, halfway caught between begging and moaning for more, not certain which was more truthful. Credence shivered when he touched himself, and then gently kissed Graves, as he moved into place, his dick slender as the rest of him, once past the first ring of muscle, smoothly went into the hilt. 

Graves’ eyes fluttered and his jaw dropped, remembering was nothing like experiencing, of course. He reached for Credence and clung to him, as if it was the first time, just on repeat. 

Credence gave as good as he got, and fucked him with slow torturous thrusts that made the head of his dick graze right over his prostate every time, threatening to wake the neighbors. Luckily, Credence kissed him whenever he looked about to make noise. 

By the time he felt another wave about to crash over him, Credence appeared to be faltering, fraying apart at the seams, movements frantic and breathing jagged. Graves told him to come, and a split second later Credence cried out, before burying his face into the crook of Graves’ neck and shoulder, hips stilling against him, release pulsing deep inside. 

With Credence atop him, he had almost no leverage, no friction, but he could rock up, and as a result, Graves felt the additional fullness ease him closer, so he reached between them, squeezing over his length, thumbing the head. He gasped when Credence mewled, and then nipped at his neck, mouth hot and wet on his skin. That was enough to send him over, and his hand went lax over his dick, slowly drooling onto his stomach.

They were a total mess now in his godawful bed, threadbare mattress and moth eaten blankets aside. 

“Graves… what’s your first name?” 

Credence mumbled against him, and he frowned. 

“Why, so you can tease me with how old fashioned it sounds?” 

“No. Just tell me.” 

Graves blinked, and thought. And thought. He laid there, frozen, wracking his brain, but nothing was coming to him. 

He hadn’t ever drank  _ that _ much before. 

He shifted and jostled Credence onto the side of the bed, 

“Lemme just grab my wallet. Check my badge real quick.” 

Credence huffed a sigh, and then curled up under the blanket, while Graves walked over to his pants, not intending to give the young man an eyeful, but doing it anyway. His wallet was thin, full of a couple of business cards from other people, and then one for the station. 

There was no ID card or driver's license of any kind. He side eyed Credence who was still in his bed, and swallowed. There was nothing that he would gain by stealing Graves’ stuff. He had a rich boss for god’s sake. 

“What’s going on?”

Credence blinked over at him, and then smiled, a touch sadly, considering what they’d just done. “I told you. We’re the same. You’re just a more integrated model. Better memory plants, better healing, likely. See, you’re fine. I bit you, and there’s no bruising or bleeding. I wasn’t gentle either. You were right about me. So what does that make you?” 

Graves’ blood turned to ice, and he lifted a hand to examine it, before sprinting to the mirror. Credence had hurt him, indirectly, and yet he was right. No lasting damage. If he thought about it, he felt as if he could go again too, dick hardening as he considered having Credence for real. All without nearly the long wait time he  _ knew _ that he should need, for his age. 

His head started pounding, and he staggered backwards, only to find Credence there, pulling him close, kissing his shoulder. 

“We should run. We have today to plan and escape. Grindelwald expects you dead on monday. Front page news.  _ ‘Barebones kills again.’ _ ” 

Graves blinked, and turned to look at Credence, as things inside his brain began to finally tick into place. “You’re… you’re the rogue replicant?” 

Credence nodded, and then shook his head before shrugging. 

“Not exactly. More like, replicant for hire, easy to manipulate. Reprogram.”

Graves’ hands trembled, but Credence gripped them firmly, and continued, 

“I won’t hurt you. I can’t. Whether or not it makes sense, I’m in love with you. I won’t let him touch you. I know how his touches can scar, firsthand. So we’re leaving. The open road. That’s what’s calling our name.” 

Graves found himself blinking back tears, a rarity, and he could hardly believe it. If all that was true, he’d failed.

Utterly failed. 

He was a bladerunner living a lie. 

Credence was still watching him, concern now bleeding through his lovely dark eyes. 

“I was trying to catch you. Hunting you. You’re not afraid of me…”

“No. Should I be?” 

Graves wasn’t so sure. Barebones had decimated the Senator. Left him nearly unrecognizable. If all that power was just waiting inside of Credence, no one would stand a chance. 

“You love me?” He’d caught up to now, and Credence nodded. “I know it sounds impossible.” 

Graves shook his head, “Not if I can dream. You can feel, that.  _ We _ could.” 

Credence kissed his cheek, “That’s the spirit. How much do you have to pack?” 

Graves glanced around the room, “Everything you see here. That’s all I have.” 

Credence blinked, “Well. Okay.” 

His hand dropped down to link with Graves’ and it made warmth pool in his gut. 

Was that artificial? He wasn’t sure.

“Next stop, the airport.” 

Grindelwald’s money came in handy when it was straight up credits that could go towards two one way tickets, with multiple stops. Many chances to disappear. 

So they would.

After all, they had each other and potentially forever. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

**end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in conclusion no one cares lol and fuck the haters on twitter.  
> i see you.   
> dw, im heading off into the sunset for a while. miss ya later.


End file.
